


The Lady Doth Fantasize Too Much

by xy_lasszxy



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25301083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xy_lasszxy/pseuds/xy_lasszxy
Summary: When Varric comes to Cassandra seeking advice on his next Swords and Shields installment, the two get a bit...carried away.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, it doesn't have to make canonical sense. If I see it, I write it. I don't make the rules.
> 
> I miss actually playing this game SO MUCH. It's been eons, really. Enjoy! Thanks for the support <3

**“Whatcha reading there, Seeker?”**

“—Varric!—“

He laughed at how flustered her cheeks had become. She sniffled, snatching the worn and torn remnants of her novel and throwing it clear across the room. The two watched it with a silent acceptance, one of his brows lifting to see her expression.

She shuddered, masking it well as she crossed her arms over her chest and swallowed hard. When she managed to remember their dynamic, she rubbed at her neck, a hand on her hip, and growled,” Didn’t anyone teach you how to knock?”

“Uh, I did?”

The growl left some of its harshness, she averted her attention to another part of the room. Any longer, and she felt as if we would start sweating bolts. She found this to be a dangerous guilty pleasure.

But she loved _Swords and Shields—everything_ about it made her shiver. Down to its very sentence structure, the word usage. She couldn’t imagine anyone she knew, let alone slick-tongued Varric, could write with such experience and prowess. She couldn’t imagine herself losing it the way she did. But she loved it—she loved every single sentence, every single passage that made a paragraph on a page—each chapter and part. She yearned it, and even worse, it hadn’t begun to show, but she could feel kill it swelling in-between her legs. She’d have to excuse herself any moment.

“Right...” She woke herself up from her trance, using the borrowed time to shoo him away.

“Everything alright, Seeker?”

“Yes—Why wouldn’t it be?”

He paused, a hint of confusion in his chuckle.

“Well, just checking.” He noted. In the moment of silence, she would think that anyone with half-a-brain would leave. No, not Varric. Varric savored it, taking the time to relish in the pinkening of her cheeks, how she had been struggling to continue to mask it. He took his place at the nearest wall, leaning his back and foot against it, sporting his arms over his chest.

“Varric, can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Anything I can help with?”

The question threw her off. She had tried to be harsher, but the question was rare if Lavellan wasn’t asking—quite frankly. Not that she needed help. It was just nice to be asked sometime.

Before she could answer, he had already beguncleaning, bending down, the light beaming on the tightened back shoulders showing through that golden and crimson smock of his—distracting her.

_Don’t you dare look._ She gulped, shivering to herself as her eyes betrayed her, scrolling from out of her peripheral and onto his smooth, hidden skin. The silk of his smooth, muscular back. It reminded her of Donnic—how beautiful he had been written to be. She found herself becoming too flustered to speak.

So instead, she caught wind of the next thing he reached for, before swiping and collecting it into her own grasp. She was able to rebuild her bravado.

“I got it _, Varric_. But thanks.”

He knew something. She thought for a second that maybe her paranoia had gotten the best of her, but it was the twinkle in his eye. The curve at the end of his lips as he brushed his shoulder past hers, gentle enough to make her stirring worse.

“Okay—I think I’ll just pick this up then—“

“—Varric, you obviously can see that I’m busy. Why won’t you leave?”

He paused, his smile to himself making her scoff and cross her arms over her chest. She hadn’t imagined that anyone, let alone Varric, could make her heart stop dead within his chest—but there they were.

“I just wanted to meet my biggest fan, finally.”

She bluffed,” What are you on about now?”

But he saw right through it. He continued to walk forward, his fingers already wrapped around the exposed spine of the book before she could call out to him. He picked it up within his hands, brushing the dust from off it and blowing with a knowing, anticipating silence.

“I usually reread my works for continuity before working on the next one. Usually, I have to bring my own personal copy—but it looks as if the series was already here before I could start to get it.... it’s within our own libraries, so it has to be one of us if not you,”

Damn it—she knew that it had been better to have just read it on the road. It would have been easier to have just read it while they sailed to hunt more Venatori, or before completing the geological surveys not too far away.

“Not to mention, you’re as red as a beet—“

“—Okay, well time to leave—“

“—Well hold on, Seeker. I’m not judging. It’s actually quite flattering.”

He studied her caution.

“And pretty cute to watch.”

“Cute!?” Her cheeks were on fire, she turning away from him, calculating with her fingers massaging her temple.

“I can’t believe this is happening right now...” she finally accepted to herself. She looked back, a bit teary—though she hadn’t been sure if it was due to her being aroused or embarrassed, or both honestly. But Varric smiled nonetheless. He _hmphed,_ sighing deeply through his nose and finding her face.

“Seeker?”

She looked back to see his smug smile. She groaned.

“What, Varric?”

“I came because I wanted to ask your opinion.”

“My opinion?”

“I’m working on the first love scene in the next installment of Swords and Shields. I need to hear from someone else who knows what’s going on. I’m trying to understand how Donnic would approach Aveline...”

She had been caught up within her own emotions to watch his body language. But he stepped closer to her, taking her hand in one of his and caressing her cheek with the other. She was frozen, in between pain and pleasure, perfectly rested their as her mouth began to twitch.

He looked her deep within her eyes, the studied her mouth, the smile erasing from his own.

“Do you think he’d take her hand? And look into her eyes, or step closer and give her a gentle kiss?”

She fought to speak. Without much else direction on what to do next, she stood up straight out from his reach and sighed. He chuckled, leaning against the table and rubbing at his thighs.

“...It’s hard to say.”

She wrung out her hands, Varric lifting himself to sit on the table. Now he had been a little under her height.

“Seeker—care to help?”

“I don’t know, I....”

“If not that’s okay,”

She looked to see him.

“I just don’t know how i can be much help is all.”

“You? You’re perfect.” He noted the expression on her cheeks, calling her over. “Come here...”

She entertained the surrealism, walking closer to him and feeling his hands caress her face again.

“Now, I’m no Donnic....” He chuckled to himself. “But my instinct tells me he’d—“

She felt his arms around her waist, he bringing her closer to him and studying her expression, melting a bit at the gasp she made.

“—maybe bring her close like this? And bring her close to his lips....”

She laughed weakly, continuing to watch him. He took her chin into his hold and slowly started to bring her mouth to his. She paused him, placing her hand on his chest, but not retracting them from his body.

“In my opinion, Varric...” She stiffened. “I think Aveline would come to him first.”

“Oh?”

She had still been hesitant, but in her own pace she grew more confident. Her fingertips traced the collar of his shirt, and over the scars that made the archer’s face—his light stubble and sharp jaw only informing her curiosity.

“I think she’d pause, and she’d let her hands just wander...” her hands followed suit, caressing his skin, a hand running down his shirt, he eyed her hands, looking down. She brought his gaze back up to see her.

“And then she’d kiss him.”

She stepped back, blushing and in all her fan glory, rubbing at her arm as she retracted into herself. He nodded with an impressed, subtle _hmm_...

”Now that’s interesting. _Now—“_

He lifted himself from his place on the table, taking her hand and trading places with her. She followed his guidance, surprised at the strength he had to have lifted her onto the table, another gasp squeaking from her.

“Seeker...she guides her hands and explores him, yes? What shall he do in return?” 

He had his hands wrapped securely still around her hips, her hands around his shoulders, his weight leaning her back onto the table. She continued to look up at him, her eyes narrowed. She was beginning to lose herself.

Before she could answer, he took her hand into his own, placing it eventually on his chest and leaning closer into her. Within the moments of silence, he leaned his mouth into her neck, making her begin to tremble. She held her composure.

“I got it,” He said, his tone no longer soft—poetic. He stood up from his place there, brushing out his shirt and smiling.

“Thanks, Seeker.”

She knew not to make it seem as if she had been anticipating anything. She sat up straight, cleared her throat and and sighed deeply. She managed to regain her voice.

“Now will you leave, Varric?”

She masked disappointment well.He paused, scratching at the back of his neck. “Yeah—I’ll get out of your hair. Thanks again Seeker.”

And with that, he had left—leaving them both in a stupor of arousal and confusion. But something told them both that it wouldn’t stay that way for long.


	2. Chapter 2

If there was anything Cassandra Pentaghast hated the most, it was games. Well, more so _losing_ at those said games. If she had been winning, she liked them a lot. But she hadn’t won that many that didn’t involve her physical strength or stamina. And she sure as hell didn’t like the game Varric had been playing recently.

She told herself to forget about it—their… _exchange_ had been a weird one. But it was only going to be that one. And why he had retracted so suddenly she wasn’t sure…but it was definitely his loss. She still had _Swords and Shields,_ right?

It had been late—Lavellan, Bull, Blackwall and Solas had decided to venture out back into the Hinterlands to track down…whatever artifact Solas suspected being there. Vivienne and Sera were off to somewhere, and Dorian—she hadn’t really been sure. But she was sure she’d eventually run into him again. Josephine had been busy trying to find more coin for the Inquisition resources, Lilianna with her ravens scouting, and Cullen busy training his men. Last, she had heard, Varric had been out of sight, out of mind – looking for more red lyrium deposits along their shores.

So, it had just, _finally_ , been her, her book, a glass of wine, and the softest silk she had found in a long time. But just before she could begin reading, there had been a knock at her door. She fought against every muscle and bone in her body to just growl at the door, “BUSY.”

But she didn’t. Carefully—she hid the book, climbing from out of her bed and opening it with a jerk. She paused.

“Varric?”

“Hello, Seeker.”

“What are you doing here—I thought you were hunting down red lyrium?”

Varric leaned against the door frame.

“Well, we figured it would be best until we headed out early tomorrow instead of tonight. It’s better that way.”

“Ah.”

“Listen—”

He looked up at her.

“—I wanted to apologize. For the other day.”

“Why? You just wanted help, right? You got it.”

“Seeker, I—”

Varric wasn’t Varric tonight. No cheekiness, no furrowed, knowing brow, no curl of his lips or stupid little smug smile. He had been sincere. It almost frightened her.

“May I come in?”

She looked down at him, then walked away from the door, leaving it open to him. He let himself in, closing the door.

“I anticipate this is where you explain yourself now.”

“Seeker, it wasn’t right for me to…I didn’t think about how my…”

He fought himself to say the words. “I’m sorry about the other night. I’ve been thinking about it, and my behavior was uncalled for.”

She was almost at a loss of words. In this moment, she had forgotten to be cold.

“…Well, I accept your apology.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be so sad, because it’s been helping me to focus on Swords, but …I’ve been extremely…lonely. Recently.”

She looked to see him.

“Nights get cold—and mead can only warm you up so much, yeah?”

He had sat on her bed, hands hanging in between his knees as he rested on them. She joined him after a while, continuing to look at him.

“…I didn’t think you’d apologize. Well…not for that, anyway. Saving the world can get pretty lonesome.”

“Cheers to that one…”

They _hmphed_ in unison before he let the conversation process in his head. He looked to her with caution.

“Wait. What _did_ you think I would apologize for?”

  
“What?”

“Just now—when you said that you didn’t think I would apologize. What were _you_ thinking I would apologize for?”

She sighed.

“It’s unimportant.”

“Says who?”

“You won’t be interested in hearing it.”

“Humor me.”

She let herself drop the bravado. He had already seen it—seen her trying to hide it, _laughing_ as he did so—why not now?

Her look dropped with her shoulders. “Why did you stop, Varric?”

He was going to ask, “Huh—Seeker?” but hadn’t gotten the chance before he looked into her eyes and seeing hints of tears there. Though they never fell, they glossed over her eyes and emphasized their color. The intensity, the confusion, the sadness, the yearning.

“I’m no beauty queen. No Orlesian bureaucrat. I turned in blood for lipstick, and I’ve my scars…But—you came, and you flirted. And then you…stopped.”

She hung her head, wringing her hands. “It’s hard to not take it so personally. I hope you’d understand.”

He kneeled down, taking her hand and looking up at her. “Seeker…I…”

He paused. Life, huh? He was speechless, looking up into her glass eyes. He had no idea that…no suspecting second of a thought that entertained the idea of Cassandra ever wanting him. He…he told her the truth.

“I stopped because I didn’t think it would go anywhere…I thought I was going to try to flirt and get kicked in my balls.” He looked at her. “And from the look of that smile, it looks like I almost _did_.”

The two of them chuckled. But he took his hand, holding her chin and looking her directly in her eyes.

“But if you don’t want it to stop—it doesn’t have to, Seeker. I, _more_ than willingly, will continue.”

He brought her close to his lips, shying away and chuckling.

“Forgive me, Seeker. It’s been a while.”

She continued to watch him, finally appreciating the detail of his face before finishing the gesture. The two kissed, gentle and juvenile, before breaking the kiss to look at each other’s flushed faces.

“Are we really doing this, Varric?”

“For as long as you want to, Seeker.”

It was a bit embarrassing to admit, but in this moment, she felt like Aveline. Precious, valued. He held her with a bedside manner only Donnic could have, kissing her with passion yet caution.

Each movement was soft, slow—as if asking permission, being attentive to the way she reacted. Varric stood, holding her by her jaw and neck, continuing their kiss, beginning to lay her back onto the bed. In this moment, she had been the softest woman he ever met. Surprisingly of course. Who would’ve thought that despite their dynamic; the growling, the attacks—both verbal and physical, Cassandra Pentaghast, was capable of such vulnerability? Such softness. And care.

While in his own head, he often joked that she would be as gentle as a rabid dog. But he looked over her now, how her doe-like brown eyes locked onto him, how the blood rushed to her cheeks, how her hands lay out beside her as she gave him full control over her body. He wanted nothing more but to take care of this woman—to nurture her, to hold her. To share with her that he too had been lonely. He too needed love.

He climbed over top of her, straddling her and taking his time with her clothes. He continued to watch her, taking his thumb and rubbing it across her lips, smiling softly at her silent gasp.

“You’re so cute, Seeker…”

She averted shyly, her growl more a plead than anything else.

“Don’t push it, Varric…”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled, taking his other hand and tracing her neck and collarbone with his finger, beginning to work at the buttons of her silk nightwear. He prompted her lips apart with his thumb, entering it into her mouth.

“And all this time, you just needed to be pampered. _Mea culpa_ , Seeker….”

She eyed him, beginning to lose herself within his touch, her eyes rolling back. She had a rosy complexion—with a cute angular shape, with round, pinkened-nipple full breasts and a conditioned core from years of battle. Her body wore scars like medals, and he found each one beautiful in its own right. Goosebumps spread across her skin the more buttons that fell to his touch, but his kisses traveled down her body in a warm journey towards her groin.

He took her pants off as he kissed, slowly unraveling the loose of chiseled, experienced thighs—the look of her hip bone and how it angled down into a cute tuff of ebony trimmed hair. Her legs had been shaking by the time the fabric could reach her ankles.

“May I?”  
  


He looked up to see her quiet, girlish nod. He smiled and chuckled to himself, placing one leg on his shoulder, and then the other, kissing her inner thigh, her pubic area, then over her vulva before sticking his tongue out and focusing in on her clitoris.

She let out a gasp, her hands now beside her shins, grasping and tightening around the cotton of his shirt.

“Varric!”

He _tsked_ her, wrapping his arms around her hips and pinning her to the bed.

“Ah, ah, ah—no moving, Seeker.”

He deepened his kiss there, Cassandra squirming with her cheeks burning. She moaned out, her hands clasping over her mouth. He reached up to hold her breasts, with fingers running over her nipples, massaging and pulling them. She inched, biting into her lip when she felt his wrists pin her down a bit harder, the end of his tongue slicker and slicker by the minute. She looked down to see him, watching him as he played with his food.

He deepened his kiss a bit more, making her hands move to her mouth once more before they ran through his hair, her fingers tangling themselves there. It seemed to be some wicked game, some torture. Each time he could feel her attempt to inch away from him, or lift herself, he grabbed her tighter, and only kissed where she had no choice but to succumb to.

It manifested in her legs, her thighs, her toes—she could feel the beginnings of her orgasm coming in waves of heat and cool. She froze, her entire body tensing. Varric said nothing in acknowledging it, but instead, started to taste and accept whatever he could collect into his mouth.

When he had been done, he eased his touch and sat up, wiping at the corners of his mouth with satisfaction.

“Mm.” He licked over his lips. “Tasty…”

He let Cassandra catch her breath, running his hands through her hair and smiling with a soft pleasure.

“You ready for more, Seeker?”

He had rested her onto her pillows, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight from her window. They exchanged looks once more before Varric had climbed over her, blowing the flame from the candles out, and returning to her lips, kissing her, feeling her hands around the hem of his pants and down his muscular thighs.

It should have dawned on her that beauty held no boundaries. Of course, it wasn’t something she needed to educate herself on, but her few encounters with Dwarven men hadn’t been the most positive. Most of her encounters, she had been with men with enough insecurities to match their height if not taller. But there was something completely _new_ about Varric—he defied any fiction, any rumors that spoke bad on Dwarven men. What he lacked in height, he made up for with compassion, attentiveness, sensuality—any of these things of course made height irrelevant at all. She spread her legs to him, gasping softly at the feel of his girth, his hardness and weight.

He looked down, almost unsure of who he had been inside of, then looking to her with glittering admiration.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I am sorry again well for...I guess my bs. I'll spare the apologies. There's no need to apologize if it's going to keep happening. I guess all I can say is for the last few months, I've really taken the fun out of fanfic writing for myself, and I really want to restore it again. So I'll probably just be spamming my account with things that are unfinished. Or just written out, half-completed drafts. Hope you enjoy anyway, thanks for your time <3 Stay safe and healthy!


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